


maybe tomorrow will be better

by shinykari (meinterrupted)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Male-Female Friendship, Panic Attack, Steve deserves all the hugs, cliche meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinterrupted/pseuds/shinykari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He said I wanna see you again / But I'm stuck in colder weather / Maybe tomorrow will be better / Can I call you then</em>
</p><p>Or, the one where Steve and Darcy have to huddle for warmth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe tomorrow will be better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abbie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Abbie! *mwah* This is for you.
> 
> I posted that cliche meme that was going around, and Abbie asked for Steve & Darcy huddling for warmth. At first I wanted to go fluffy and cute, but then I realized, uh, Steve was stuck in ice for nearly 70 years. He probably has some serious issues that would be triggered by the cold. And then I wanted to actually write it out. And then it was Abbie's birthday, and it was FATE.
> 
> **Please see end notes for potential triggers (see tags) and spoilery content information.**
> 
> Title and summary are from Zac Brown Band's "Colder Weather." Lots of love to [Sarah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talulabelle) for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

They’d been stuck in the truck for half an hour now, or maybe longer; Steve didn’t really know for sure. Darcy had come around first, and when she’d shaken him awake, her lips were already tinged blue with cold. He remembered meeting her randomly outside the Starbucks down the street from the Tower, trying to balance three trays of coffee; apparently being Agent Coulson’s personal assistant didn’t disqualify her from the office’s rotating schedule of coffee runs. He’d offered his help, and she’d gratefully pressed two of the trays into his empty hands. After that, things got a little fuzzy, but his aching head suggested they’d been attacked from behind, and shoved into a refrigerated truck to be taken God knows where.

Both he and Darcy had yelled themselves hoarse trying to get the attention of someone on the outside of the refrigerated truck, but for once, the traffic in New York was moving quickly enough that no one heard. Steve’s hands were covered in shallow cuts and bruises from banging on the metal sides of the truck and working in vain at the locked door, and though the chill had slowed the bleeding, Darcy’s looked worse without the super-soldier serum to aid her healing.

Steve slumped against the wall, kicking out at a cardboard box as he dropped to the floor. It slid across the metal floor, bouncing off a few of its mates before hitting the opposite side with a soft thud. “What did those poor fries ever do to you?” Darcy asked through chattering teeth, perched on another box, presumably to keep her body off the chilly floor.

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” he said, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth against the cold.

Darcy huffed out a laugh that was more annoyance than humor. “You never know, they could be after me. It was my coffee run after all,” she pointed out, teeth chattering. “I’ve got a pretty damn high clearance level and next-to-no combat training. If I were an evil genius, hell-bent on world-domination, I’d go for me. ‘You are the Weakest Link,’” she joked, affecting a really awful British accent.

“I thought--” Steve paused and breathed as deeply as he could past the growing tightness in his chest. The sensation was familiar and extremely unwelcome; he hadn’t had an asthma attack since before Dr. Erskine and the serum, and this was probably the worst time for a recurrence. He swallowed and tried to push it away, opening his eyes and focusing on Darcy’s cold-flushed face. The lenses of her glasses were fogged, making it harder for him to read her expression. “I thought you were training with Agents Hill and Romanoff?”

She shivered and shook her head. “I’m supposed to be, but saving the world kind of takes precedence over a PA’s exercise regimen, no matter h-how awesome she might be,” she said. “I’ve been mostly working out with some of the lower-level agents, when I have time. But not enough to make me a le- less attractive target, apparently,” she said, stuttering.

Steve grimaced and clenched his teeth, willing away the cold and the way the edges of his vision were darkening ominously as he struggled for breath. “You really think they were after you?”

Darcy shrugged, jerkily. “Well I am a hot piece,” she said, her breath condensing into a cloud in front of her face as she indicated herself. “You never know.”

She kept talking, but her words were drowned out by the sound of his heart beating too loud and too fast in his ears. Steve couldn’t breathe, his throat too tight to allow any more than a trickle of air. He blinked rapidly, his vision going in and out, images of the inside of the truck suddenly superimposed on the cockpit of Schmidt’s plane; cardboard boxes exchanged for the deep blue of sea-ice surrounding him as he slipped into another decades-long sleep. 

Steve realized too late that it wasn’t an asthma attack after all. He clenched his fists tightly, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms hard enough to draw blood, but it wasn’t enough to snap him back to reality. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the sight he knew--he _knew_ \--to be untrue, and slammed his head back against the wall hard enough that it echoed hollowly in the metal container. The sharp slice of pain was enough to push back the edges of the anxiety, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He needed to control this, to think his way out of this stupid frozen metal box. Darcy needed him to be Captain America, to save them both from whatever he’d gotten them into, and passing out because he couldn’t breathe through his anxiety and fear wasn’t the way to do that.

Before he could berate himself any more, think of more ways this was going to end with the two of them dead in a ditch somewhere far from help, his lap was suddenly full of curvy brunette. Darcy wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, her legs slung over one of his thighs. Her breath was warm and slow, a distinct contrast to her cold cheek. More out of shock and instinct than any conscious thought, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest.

“Jesus, you’re like a sp- space heater,” she muttered, her teeth still chattering. “I’m going to need you to share.”

Steve nodded, unable to speak just yet. He concentrated on her slow, even breathing, forcing his body to sync with hers. Darcy’s voice was low and calm as she continued to enumerate all the reasons why someone would want to kidnap her--her quote-unquote awesome cat herding skills number one among them. “I mean, let’s be real, if it weren’t for me, Erik and Jane would probably have starved to death in the desert, and then where would Thor be, huh? And Agent Coulson should really be on medical leave still, it’s only been a few months since he got _stabbed in the chest_ , for crying out loud. The only reason Fury even let him come back early is because I promised to make him take breaks so he doesn’t stress his heart too much, and I have Natasha and Clint on backup if he doesn’t listen. Do you know how intense Natasha’s disappointed face is? She gives my mom a run for her money, which, ugh, that face is seared into my memory. ‘Why aren’t you going to pre-med like your cousin Julia? You should be a doctor, not an English major. English majors don’t make any money. Have you thought about applying for law school? You do love to argue.’ Ugh.”

“I thought your major was political science,” he said, now that his heartbeat was close to normal and he could breathe again. He squeezed Darcy a little tighter, rubbing his hands up and down her back. If it hadn’t been for the cold, Steve would have felt self-conscious about such an intimate gesture, but she didn’t seem to mind, and the texture of her suit jacket under his palms helped him focus.

Darcy laughed. “It was, when I graduated. I skipped around: English, then History, Religious Studies--which I got my minor in, actually, fascinating stuff--before I finally settled on Poli Sci. Mostly because I had taken enough of the courses as electives that I wouldn’t need an extra year.” She wiggled her hips, settling herself more comfortably in his lap. “I’m really glad I decided not to wear a skirt today, this would be much more awkward.”

He nodded. “And colder,” he pointed out. 

“Always so practical, Rogers,” she said before leaning her head back down on his shoulder, still shivering. “So, were you always this hot or is this, like, a side effect of the super-juice?”

“My metabolism runs a lot faster than before, so I guess it’s a side effect. I remember being cold a lot when I was younger, and not so much now,” he murmured, resting his cheek against the top of her head. Her hair smelled good, citrusy, like the oranges he and Bucky had saved and scraped for weeks to buy each Christmas when they were children.

“I bet the SHIELD commissary hates when you and Thor are both on site for lunch. Have you seen how much he eats?” She shuddered theatrically. “I should record him and put that on Youtube, I really should. When I first met him, he ate a whole box of Pop-Tarts--and not the little box, the Sam’s Club-size box--and then demolished two tall stacks of pancakes without even slowing down. It was kind of awe-inspiring, actually. You think we could enter him into the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating contest on the 4th? Or would he be disqualified? I’d like to see him up against Joey Chestnut.”

Steve chuckled. “I don’t know. He’s technically not human, so they probably wouldn’t let him compete.”

“Mmm, well, we should go next year, anyway. Coney Island, Independance Day, more socially-accepted gluttony than any day besides Thanksgiving, it’ll be great.” She looked up at him, with a small smile. “Plus, isn’t it your birthday?”

“It is,” he said. “Though I still haven’t decided if I should be celebrating it as 28 or 95.”

“28, definitely,” she said, patting his chest. “This is not the body of a man older than my grandpa.”

Steve cocked his head to the side as he felt the truck sway to the right and begin to slow. “We’re coming off the freeway,” he murmured, glancing around the truck, eyes peeled for some sort of weapon. “Our best chance for escape will be to surprise them as soon as we stop.” He squeezed her tightly to him. “I’ll get us out of this. I promise.”

Darcy nodded. “I trust you, Steve,” she said, her voice soft. 

He nudged her off his lap and the two of them started searching the boxes for anything that could be used as a weapon. Darcy found a rusty box-cutter, while Steve scrounged up a crowbar that had seen better days. The truck slowed further, turning several times, before it stopped entirely. When their abductors opened the back doors, Steve attacked, disarming them quickly before knocking the two of them unconscious.

While Darcy patted down the pair of them, Steve snuck up front to take care of the driver. He dragged the struggling man out of the cab, and the fight was short and dirty. When he jogged back to Darcy, she was already on one of their attacker’s phones, calling for backup. She covered the mouthpiece and said, “SHIELD will be here in five minutes. Apparently,” she noted with a wry grin, “our absence was noticed.”

She shivered a little, in spite of the muggy late-August heat, and after a moment’s hesitation, Steve wrapped his arms around her. “Still cold?” he asked.

“Freezing,” she muttered, burrowing closer to him, heedless of the still-open phone line. “Maybe I’m going into shock.”

“Maybe,” he conceded slowly. “Or you’re just cold.” After a few more moments, he pushed the phone away from her ear. She looked up at him, frowning in confusion. “Thank you, for...” He trailed off and jerked his head toward the truck.

She raised one brow and quirked her lip up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Steve. I just saw a good excuse to cuddle up to a hot guy.”

Before he could answer, they were surrounded by SHIELD agents and black vans. Thor jumped out of one, and rushed toward them, pulling Darcy away from Steve and into a tight hug. “Fair Darcy! My Lady Jane was worried nigh unto sickness when your disappearance was discovered. Do you require a healer? Shall I smite these villains in defense of your honor?”

“Thor, can’t breathe,” Darcy squeaked, and Thor loosened his grip almost immediately. Once she caught her breath, she said, “I’m actually pretty good. Steve kept me safe, and it looks like SHIELD’s thugs are going to take care of that smiting for you.” The three of them turned to see the three kidnappers being bound and shuffled into the back of unmarked vans.

Thor nodded to Steve, his arms still wrapped around Darcy, though not nearly as tightly. “I am in your debt, Steven, for my lady would be much aggrieved if her bosom companion were harmed. I would grant you a boon; you need only ask.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you, Thor. I’ll keep that in mind.” Agent Sitwell waved to get his attention, and he smiled once more at Darcy. “Duty calls. I’ll see you back at headquarters?”

“Yeah, I’m going to go try to warm up and then I’m sure there’ll be a ten-hour debrief.” She rolled her eyes, but Steve could see her knuckles whitening as she clutched Thor’s tee shirt tighter. Thor noticed her tension too, and squeezed her reassuringly. Darcy relaxed a little, and shot Steve a strained smile. “It’ll be fun, I’m sure.”

“I’ll be there as soon as this is cleared up.” He met Thor’s gaze, and the other man nodded once, understanding Steve’s unspoken request to keep an eye on Darcy, before slowly herding her toward one of the vehicles.

“Hey Steve?” He looked up from his conversation with Sitwell to where Darcy was hanging out the window of a black sedan. “If this whole superhero thing doesn’t work out, you have a real future in personal heating.”

He blushed, and she grinned and ducked back into the car.

\--

A few months later, just as fall was bleeding into winter, Tony & Bruce managed to completely destroy the Tower’s HVAC system with one of their failed experiments. The vent in his apartment was spewing 50 degree air, and Steve couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. The temperature was rapidly approaching too cold, no matter that he’d scrounged up a set of long underwear and some fuzzy pink socks that Clint had given him as gag gift.

He was pacing the living room as the sun dipped below the skyline, counting and measuring his steps, when a knock sounded at his door. He opened it to reveal Darcy, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. Since their joint abduction, he’d seen her around SHIELD and the Tower--mostly at her desk outside Coulson’s office or with Thor and Jane--but they hadn’t spent much time together besides a couple of mandatory counselling sessions. Steve hadn’t wanted to force his company on her, in case being around him brought up bad memories, but he found himself thinking about her more and more often lately. He was surprised and, admittedly, a little pleased that she’d sought him out.

“Uh, hi,” he said, and hurriedly backed into his apartment, clearing the doorway for her.

“I was hanging out with Jane, and I... I was cold,” she said as she stepped inside. “And I was thinking, well, I know there’s a portable space heater in human form just a few doors away, and...” She trailed off, blushing slightly.

He grinned. “I recall someone telling me something similar once.”

Darcy sighed with relief. “Good, because otherwise this whole situation was going to become creepy and stalkerish real quick. I was thinking we could watch a movie, something funny and set in a tropical location. Zero ice, unless its in someone’s mai tai.” She brushed by him and plopped herself down on his couch. “Have you seen ‘Forgetting Sarah Marshall’ yet?”

Steve shook his head and went to sit next to her. “No, not yet.”

“Oh goodie, I think you’ll like it,” she said. After she pulled it up on the large television that he rarely watched, she tucked her feet up under her and leaned against his side. Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings: This story contains a character experiencing an anxiety attack and very mild self-harm in an effort to stop said anxiety attack. Please read responsibly.**
> 
> I do not condone self-harm for any reason; I can't stress that enough. In my own experience with anxiety, sharp pain is sometimes enough to snap me out of a mild attack. It's also something I do without noticing, which is what is happening to Steve in this story.
> 
> According to [this MCU timeline](http://www.filmbuffonline.com/FBOLNewsreel/wordpress/2012/05/13/a-marvel-cinematic-universe-timeline-2-0/), Steve was born July 4, 1918, which would make July 4, 2013, technically, his 95th birthday. He went into the ice sometime before V-E Day (May 8, 1945) and before he turned 27, and woke up at some point before May 2012 (i.e. The Avengers). There’s no exact date for when he wakes, but I assume he wasn’t awake for much more than a month before Loki attacked. So, July 4, 2012 would be the 27th birthday he was awake for, and as this story takes place during the a vague time period after July 2012, his next birthday would be his 28th or his 95th.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [maybe tomorrow will be better [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081688) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




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